


it takes two (to make a thing go right)

by anna_kat



Series: Ward x Simmons Summer [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ward x Simmons Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_kat/pseuds/anna_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“You want me to marry your husband’s best friend, who I’ve only met a few times, because she’s going to get deported?” <br/>He’s trying to keep his voice down, he really is. He’s not being all that successful.</em><br/>For the 'fake!married' theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it takes two (to make a thing go right)

**Author's Note:**

> From week ten of WardxSimmons Summer, for the _fake!married_ theme.
> 
> Lightly (and in some scenes, heavily) influenced by The Proposal.

“You want me to  _marry_ her?”

Grant sort of always tenses for trouble when his sister offers to buy lunch, but this was a whole new level of insanity. Even for Skye.

She sends the waiter away with her credit card and turns back to him with a nervous grin that makes her eyebrows go up. “Okay, just listen to the whole thing before you get all indignant at me-”

“You want me to  _marry_ your husband’s best friend, who I’ve only met a few times, because she’s going to get  _deported_?” He’s trying to keep his voice down, he really is. He’s not being all that successful.

“You know Jemma!” Skye tries, wedging the tip of her thumb between her teeth for a moment like she does when she tries to defend one of her decisions to him. “She’s nice! Brilliant, pretty, funny once she stops being nervous and awkward… Remember, you couldn’t stop flirting with her! You totally had a crush-…” She trails off when she sees his expression, and bites the knuckle of her index finger this time, forehead wrinkled.

Grant just stares at her. “You want me to marry her.”

“She’s going to get deported and there’s like a whole time period where she’s not allowed to come back here or reapply or something, and Fitz is devastated, and I’m devastated, and Jemma’s  _completely_ devastated- god, you think you hate it when I’m sad, you should see her sad face, it’s awful-”

“ _Skye-_ ”

“Will you think about it?”

“I’ll think about how illegal it is-”

“Grant, come on! Will you  _please_  just think about it? For awhile?”

And she’s got her brown eyes all big and wide and he swears her bottom lip is about to start trembling, so of course he’s going to think about marrying someone he’s never even had a date with in his entire life. Damn it.

 

—

 

He doesn’t sleep that night.

At all.

 

—

 

“ _Hey, this is Skye’s phone, apparently I’m not available, or I’m choosing not to answer you. Either way, drop a message and I’ll maybe get back to you!_ ”

“You’re just pulling my leg, aren’t you? You and Fitz are just trying to get me all riled up because you think it’s funny. You’re terrible.”

 

—

 

“ _Hello, you’ve reached Leo Fitz, go ahead and leave a message after the beep._ ”

“You guys, seriously, this is not funny. Illegal marriage is not a joke. I’m coming over.”

 

—

 

Apparently, the reason neither his sister nor his brother-in-law are answering their phones is because they have a slightly hysterical woman on their couch. He hadn’t been expecting that when he let himself into their apartment, and now he’s standing awkwardly in the doorway like a creeper.

It’s Jemma Simmons, of course. She was in the wedding, standing directly to Fitz’s right as his ‘best maid’. Grant had been Skye’s ‘man of honor’, so she’d sort of been his partner in all things wedding-related. They’d danced together plenty of times. He remembers her. Well. And very fondly.

And now she’s speaking so quickly he can barely keep up, words tumbling over words as she slides her fingers through her hair over and over. She’s the first to notice him, though. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know your brother was coming over, I’ll just go-”

Grant shakes his head a little harder than is probably necessary. “No, no, you don’t have to… I mean, I didn’t… I called, but…”

Skye squeezes Jemma’s hand quickly and then stands up, hauling her brother into the kitchen by his elbow. She looks past him into the living room briefly, then lowers her voice. “You’ll do it, right? You’re going to do it?”

“Skye-”

“Please, Grant! Please. You saw her, right? She’s been like that for weeks. She only has about a week and a half left before she has to leave, and she’s seriously breaking my heart. Please. Please do this.”

Grant looks over his shoulder into the living room, his head spinning. It’s so illegal. ( _So illegal_.) He doesn’t know her, not past the general idea of her that he got to know months ago. They’ll have to live together, won’t they? Have a  _wedding_? How can he marry someone he hardly knows? What if he actually develops real feelings for her? His crush is already out of control. It’s so illegal and so ridiculous, and what if she sleeps on the right side of the bed, too?  _Are they going to share a bed?_

He can hear her sniffling. Damn it.  _Damn it_.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

 

—

 

Jemma’s so thrilled, she throws herself at him and kisses his cheek. (“Oh, thank you, Grant, thank you, thank you,  _thank you_.”) He puts an arm around her so she doesn’t fall back to the ground, and she kisses his cheek again with this breathy little giggle.

Shit.

 

—

 

Skye makes them a list and delivers it when they’re all helping to move Jemma’s things into Grant’s apartment.

** Skye’s Guide to Being Fake Married **

  * DO get touchy-feely
  * DON’T let Jemma improvise too drastically
  * DO feel free to kiss all the time
  * DON’T look awkward when you kiss all the time
  * DO hold hands in public
  * DON’T do the fake nicknames (they’re creepy and it’s painfully obvious nobody would ever call anyone that ever)
  * DO tell each other about yourselves and get to know each other really well because that Gilbertson guy set up your interview for the end of next week and I don’t really want to have to visit my brother in jail
  * ~~DON’T feel obligated to check out all those bridal magazines I left on the coffee table~~
  * DO feel obligated to check out all those bridal magazines I left on the coffee table
  * DON’T forget to have at least some wedding details planned before the interview
  * DO treat Jemma well and with a shit ton of respect or Fitz and I will come for you Grant Ward
  * DON’T SCREW THIS SHIT UP



 

—

 

Five days into the most insane situation of his life, Grant’s trying to quiz himself on the questions from the interview binder when he hears Jemma open the front door.

“I love your sister dearly, but I’m not sure I can take much more wedding planning this week. I don’t know why I thought wearing heels would be a good idea, either.” She sits on the other end of the couch, giving him a smile as she tugs her shoes off and rubs at the soles of her feet.

He smiles back. This is the first time they’ve jumped into interaction without awkward greetings. “Just tell her no next time. That’s what I do.” She leans over to probably kiss his cheek (they’ve been practicing getting comfortable with affection) but he decides to go for broke and turns his head until there’s a gentle press of her lips to his.

When she leans back, her eyebrows are up and her cheeks have gone pink.

Grant shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve checked with you first.”

Jemma smiles. “It’s alright. We’ve got our first big public outing in a few days. We should get used to the kissing, shouldn’t we?” When he doesn’t say anything, Jemma leans back against the arm of the couch and pokes his side with her toe. “If you hadn’t done it, I probably would have. I like surprises, anyhow.”

At least a little less anxious, Grant’s mouth quirks up into half a smile. He catches her ankle in his hand and tugs her foot to rest on his thigh, the pads of his thumbs pressing into her arches until she practically melts into the couch. “What am I allergic to?”

She drops her head against the cushion and giggles. “Bee stings, penicillin, and putting your hands anywhere other than my feet.”

He turns bright red and she laughs.

 

—

 

Their big public outing is actually a picnic with some of Fitz’s extended family. The second they see Jemma, everyone basically erupts into cheers, and he can see almost all the tension release from her frame. She’s as happy to see them as they are to see her.

A herd of small children comes out of nowhere, tripping and shoving each other to try and reach Jemma first. She, of course, drops down so she’s closer to their height and holds her arms open to embrace as many as she possibly can. They all begin talking at once, some with thick Scottish accents, some more faint, and some with no accent at all.

Jemma listens to each one carefully and intently.

Grant looks for his sister, and finds her wrapped in the arms of her mother-in-law.

“She’ll like you.” It’s Fitz, standing beside Grant and watching Skye. “She took Skye in right away. You be honest with her, and promise to take care of Jemma, and she’ll take you too.”

Grant can’t decide what to say to that.

Fitz doesn’t seem to mind, just watches Skye and his mother for a moment longer before turning to look at Grant. “You’re a good guy, beneath all your grumpiness. And I know you have trouble opening up to people, just like Skye. But you should open up to Jemma. She’s one of the best people I know. And I’ve seen the way you look at her, sometimes.”

“Fitz-”

The younger man shrugs one shoulder and moves toward Skye. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Grant shakes his head, rolls his shoulders, goes to kneel beside Jemma. (No, it’s not like he feels like this is where he belongs, it’s just a silly crush, this is way too soon and no no no no no-)

 

—

 

They climb into the car and Jemma rolls her window down to wave at the last of the picnic-goers. He puts the key in the ignition and the engine starts, and he reaches to tangle his fingers with hers over the center console.

He’s not sure anyone outside can see it, and he’s not sure they’d find it strange if he hadn’t held her hand, but he’s very sure that neither of those things were his motivation.

When they’ve been driving for almost ten minutes, he feels her thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“I forgot what it’s like.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her head come up. “Hm?” She taps along the back of his hand. “What what’s like?”

Grant grips the steering wheel tightly for a few moments and breathes deeply. “Having a family. Family gatherings like that, where everyone wants to know what you’ve been doing and how your job’s going. Family that wants to actually hear what you have to say, and hug you, and, you know… cares.”

He only risks a quick glance, and her mouth has dropped open. She’s squeezing his fingers tightly. “Oh.” 

“It’s almost always been, you know, me and Skye. Our mom died when we were kids, and our dad was…”

“I know.”

He watches the road. After a quiet moment, he smiles over at her. “Thank you. For bringing me along. And listening.”

Her face is unreadable, which is rare, and she just nods slowly. “Any time.”

 

—

 

Jemma’s pacing out in the hall when Gilbertson finally releases Grant from his interview. She looks up, eyes wide and questioning, and he just opens his arms to her.

“We passed.” He mumbles quietly when she flings her arms around his shoulders. He can feel her smile against his neck.

“Gilbertson’s behind you.” She whispers. “We should-”

“I know.” He murmurs, and he loops his arms around her hips until he can dip her back and kiss her languidly.

She gives a content little hum against his lips, and he wonders if she knows that he’d wanted to do that all day.

 

—

 

He’s going over the list of food options from the caterer while she looks at wedding gowns online, her laptop on her belly as she lies on the couch. His own spot on the floor is surprisingly comfy, to the point where every time he lets his forehead rest on the carpet, he’s nearly asleep.

“I cry at the end of Wreck-It Ralph.”

Grant opens his eyes. He can see underneath the coffee table where one of her feet is touching the floor, toenails painted the palest of blues. “What?”

“It gets me, every time.” Her toes drift along the carpet for a minute before stilling again. “I like candles. Except for, um… cinnamon candles. They remind me of my grandmother’s house. She never let me play with anything except dolls, no matter how many times I brought my chemistry set.”

He lifts his head and rolls onto his side so he can see her. Her laptop is still open, but she’s looking up at the ceiling.

“I watch  _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_  every year at Christmas time, because I love how his heart grows. I also watch  _White Christmas,_ because the costumes are so wonderful. Peter Parker is my fictional crush, and I buy way too many books. I’ve tried on wedding gowns before, because my cousins talked me into it. I almost got a tattoo once, but I backed out. I love blueberry Pop-Tarts. I, um… haven’t, you know… slept with anyone in… eleven months now, I think. I’m a terrible dancer, but I beat Fitz at Just Dance every single time.” She pauses. “I know we passed the interview and everything, I just… thought I’d share some other things.”

“Wow.” He says quietly, watching her chew her lip. He can see her face heating up, the flush creeping down her neck and toward her chest. “You haven’t slept with anyone in almost a year?” That was  _not_ what he meant to say.

She drops the lid of her laptop shut, throwing an arm over her eyes. “God, of course that’s what you’d take from all of that.”

“I’m sorry.” He says quickly, army-crawling across the living room floor until he can stretch his arm out and hold her free hand. She doesn’t pull away, so he takes that as a good sign. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jemma half-sighs and half-laughs, still covering her face. “It’s alright. I offered it up.”

He runs his fingers over the smooth underside of her forearm, watching goosebumps rise and fall. “Hey.”

She sounds sleepy when she answers. “Mm?”

He ghosts his thumb over the inside of her elbow until she giggles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”

Now she lifts her arm just slightly until he can see her eyes. “Alright.”

He has to look away before he can speak again, but he hooks his fingers around hers securely. “You are a very, very beautiful woman.”

She’s completely silent, until he can hear her rustling around. Then he can feel her presence, much closer than her previous position on the couch. “How could I take that the wrong way?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want-”

She’s beside him on the floor, sort of half-draped over him, her hands on either side of his head. He hardly has time to look up at her before she’s leaned down and kissing him.

It’s different, a whole new kind of kiss than any of the ones they’ve shared before.

Her eyes are shining when she pulls away what feels like ages later. Her hair is tumbling down, creating a curtain of soft curls around the two of them. “Just thought I’d practice.” She whispers, with a soft smile.

Grant nods slowly, and he thinks he must be smiling too. Hugely. “Good idea.”

She touches her fingers to her lips for a moment, then reaches down and ghosts them across his too. “I thought so.”

He swallows slowly, lifts his head to nudge his nose against hers. Her eyes close. “Maybe we should, you know… practice some more?”

He loves the delighted squeal she makes when he rolls them over and presses against her.

 

—

 

They lie on the floor, then move to the couch when her back starts to ache but he can’t stand to stop kissing her.

She’s the one to stand first and pull him down the hall, bumping into doorways and tripping over their feet and stopping every few steps to push each other against the wall. It’s his room they drift into, his bed they collapse upon, and he wonders if this is it, if this is the change he’s been hoping for. The breaking point, the edge they’re tumbling over so that they can be  _real_.

“Practice makes perfect.” She giggles on an exhale, leaning over him and smiling so warmly his chest aches.

So they practice tugging shirts over their heads, practice untangling arms from sleeves when they get too eager. They practice laughing and smiling even when the air seems so hot it’s hard to breathe properly.

He practices smoothing his hands over her bare back, winding his fingers in her hair and cradling her head gently enough to offset the hunger in his kiss. She practices nipping at the spot behind his ear and shifting up until she can sit over him. He practices gripping her hips when her thighs start to shiver.

They practice kissing over sweat-slicked skin and already-forming bruises until all that’s left is to practice falling asleep wound around each other.

 

—

 

She’s standing at the stove trying to make breakfast (he’s standing behind her and kissing a trail from her ear to her shoulder) when her phone rings loudly. Shaking her head, she holds it up to the ear he’s not currently busy with. “Good morning, Skye.”

“I sense a shift in the universe. You totally banged my brother. Which is not something I ever planned on saying, just in case you were wondering.”

“Skye!” Jemma grumbles. “And you did not ‘sense a shift in the universe’, Leo told you.”

“I find it vaguely upsetting that you texted him and not me.”

“Did you want me to text you to tell you that I slept with your brother?”

“Gross. Can we come over? I’m seriously about to lose my mind with questions here. But not dirty ones, because that’s so many levels of yuck. You’re still getting married, right? Like real married? And Leo and I get to be in it? You’re totally in love, aren’t you? We placed bets. Don’t get mad. He’s been crushing on you since he met you, and you just got this totally glazed look on your face every time he got close to you, you’re terrible fakers. Would you believe this was all a matchmaking scheme, because I’m definitely taking credit for this at your 25th anniversary party. Trip so owes me twenty bucks, by the way. Oh my god, are you going to have  _babies-_ ”

“Goodbye, Skye.”

“See you in a few!”

Grant raises an eyebrow. “You told Fitz that we slept together the morning after it happened?”

Jemma grins sheepishly. “He’s my best friend! Who else was I supposed to tell?”

“Why did you have to tell anyone?”

She turns to face him now, clicking the stove off and looping her arms around his neck. “Maybe I like to brag. I’ve had my eye on you for awhile now, you know.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his smile at bay. “Have you now? Hm, and I thought it was just me.” They sway back and forth for a few minutes, until he noses against the hinge of her jaw. “Hey, Jem?”

“Yes?”

He waits until he pulls away from the inviting softness of her neck, until she’s looking up at him with warm eyes. “Will you marry me? Because I’d really like to date you.”

Jemma tries to hide her smile too, but she’s far worse at it. (Or, he thinks, her smile is that much more brilliant.) So she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him soundly. “Of course.”

Grant’s considering pulling her toward the bedroom again, at least until incessant knocking sounds from the front door. He sighs. “That was barely two minutes. They’re barely two minutes away from us for the foreseeable future. We’re never going to get to practice again, are we?”

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth before she spins out of his arms and heads for the hallway. “I would never let that happen, darling.”

He believes her.


End file.
